


Hold Back All My Dark

by SRbackwards



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Many A True Nerd - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SRbackwards/pseuds/SRbackwards
Summary: Jon had never been big on companions. That all changed when she met Benor.





	Hold Back All My Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so maybe I have a bit of a history of doing this kind of thing. I started watching Many A True Nerd because the Fallout: New Vegas no kill run intrigued me, so I decided to check it out. I got hooked. A couple of months later, here I am, writing fanfic about Jon and Benor. What am I doing? Nobody knows. Anyway. Enjoy. 
> 
> (Apologies for typos etc., I wrote this in a couple of hours because I needed to get it out and although I proofread it, I'm sure I've missed some stuff)

Jon had never been big on having companions. She’d had her method of getting things done, and she’d never needed anyone else. Sure, she’d had companions before, but none of them had ever stuck.

That all changed when she met Benor. He was everything she wasn’t, and so, he was everything she needed.

She had no idea when she got into a fistfight in Morthal that it would change her life forever.

He’d seemed so unassuming. He was strong, and he could fight, and that was all there was to him, as far as she was concerned. The more she spent time with him, the more she realised how wrong she’d been.

He wasn’t the smartest, he could be clumsy and get in her way sometimes, or get himself lost when Jon had been sure he was right behind her, but he was also warm and soft and a surprisingly calming influence on Jon. Although stern and serious, there was a charm to him that she’d never been able to explain. He was the one constant in her life.

And only sometimes, when they’d set up camp by a river, Jon might catch her eyes lingering on his bare back as he went to bathe. She tried her hardest not to watch the way the water rippled over his muscles whenever he went for a swim. Still, her mind would wander…

No. It could never work. Benor was as wholesome as a warrior could be, and Jon? Well, Jon was a white mage who dabbled in necromancy and summoning demons from hell. It wasn’t meant to be.

“What’s wrong?” His voice broke through her train of thought, and she looked up at him. They’d stopped to rest in the forest, in a clearing about fifty yards from the road, and Jon had decided to lie down and look at the sky.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said.

“You like you’re… thinking.” That made her smile.

“I know it might seem like a foreign concept to you, Benor, but I do it quite a lot.”

“Very funny,” he said. He was sitting on a rock, his battle axe and helmet laid out on the grass beside him. His hair was tousled, and he looked almost sweet.

Jon didn’t respond. She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face, breathing deeply. A smile played across her lips.

She didn’t react to the clanking sounds of heavy, metal armour being removed and dropped onto the ground. She didn’t move, even as she listened to the quiet cursing that often came with Benor getting in and out of his armour. In fact, the only sign that was she was awake when she heard the tell-tale sounds of him lying down on the grass beside her was the grin that she couldn’t contain.

*

Benor had disappeared again. He wasn’t the most skilled at mountaineering (his bulky armour certainly didn’t help) but he always caught up eventually.

This time, it had been hours. Night was falling, and Jon still wasn’t ready to admit to herself that fear for his safety was the reason her heart was pounding in her chest.

She’d been waiting by the road ever since she’d realised he was missing. It was getting cold and dark and she was still miles from the nearest settlement. Shakily, she got to her feet and began to walk.

The sky seemed to darken every ten paces, but Jon wasn’t afraid of the dark. Not really. However, in recent months, she had developed a dislike for it. She kept walking.

It was a long night, but she found him eventually. He brushed off her concerns and insisted that he was fine, and she lost her temper a little.

_FUS RO DAH_

He landed in the bushes, unscathed but annoyed.

*

“Benor, I have a gift for you,” said Jon. Her excitement was evident.

“What is it?”

“You know how you’ve been wearing that same boring old armour for ages now?”

“…Yes?”

“Well, you don’t need to anymore. I got you this,” she said, gesturing behind her. The pitch of her voice was all over the place.

“This?” He walked over to where she was pointing. “Ebony armour?”

“Superior ebony armour,” she said proudly.

There was a long moment of silence while he examined it. She watched him expectantly.

“I upgraded it myself. And enchanted it,” she said when the silence continued. Benor looked at her.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.”

A grin spread across Jon’s face.

“Not only that, but it’ll give you a lot more protection than that old set you were wearing.”

“Aw, you do care,” he said sarcastically, and her heart stuttered.

*

This place had a lot more guards than Jon had anticipated. Jon had conjured Moira at least three times now and she’d timed out or been destroyed every single time. The team of Jon, Benor and Moira were becoming quickly overwhelmed.

Jon didn’t always hide in the shadows anymore. At one point, she would’ve. Benor had always been the muscle of the team, backed up by whatever creature Jon decided to summon or conjure that week, but as time passed, Jon got better at holding her own.

This time, there was nowhere to hide. Every time Jon’s enchanted blade cut through a guard, another two seemed to appear. Benor was grunting and taunting his enemies as usual, but Jon could tell he was struggling.

They were both wounded. Jon backed off as much as she could and healed herself with one hand, slashing at a guard with the other. It wasn’t enough. She was losing strength fast. Up ahead, Benor fell to his knees.

Imbued with a new ferocity, Jon charged forward, cutting through the crowd. She made it back to Benor’s side and got him back on his feet with her healing magic. Then she rallied him for good measure. He didn’t even turn to look at her before charging off. Still, Jon smiled.

There were fewer guards now. Jon had taken care of a fair few on her way over to Benor. She cast another Dremora Lord for good measure. She was unsteady on her feet. She tried to heal herself, but Benor needed her more. He was taking damage from all sides. Mustering the strength and magic she had left, she healed him again.

Benor killed three guards in as many swings of his battle axe, and Jon’s heart soared with pride. Moira took down another two. Jon felt safe enough now to watch from the side lines as Benor and Moira finished the job.

High on adrenaline, she barely noticed the edges of her vision beginning to blur. She felt no pain, after all.

Finally, Benor turned around. She smiled at him, wanting to congratulate him on the victory, but the words wouldn’t come. His smile got stuck halfway up, and his eyebrows drew together as if he was grimacing. Jon couldn’t understand why the world seemed to slow down.

Benor’s eyes had dropped to her stomach, and then back up to her face. Jon tried to smile again but her heart was beating too fast. Moira disappeared into thin air very suddenly, although Jon was sure she should’ve had more time. Very slowly, or at least it seemed so to Jon, Benor took a step towards her and pointed down.

Jon looked down at herself. A dark red stain was spreading across the front of her robes, making them stick to her stomach. She clutched at herself, trying to comprehend what was happening, but her legs gave out under her.

She heard Benor calling her name, and then everything went dark.

*

“Jon, wake up, _please_.”

Her eyes fluttered open to find Benor leaning over her. She couldn’t quite focus on him, but he breathed a sigh of relief when she opened her eyes. One of his hands cupped her face.

“You need to use your healing magic, Jon,” he said, but his words were muffled. “Please. You’ve been stabbed.”

Jon made a noise to try and let him know that she understood. He grasped her wrist and placed her hand over her stomach.

“Please. That spell you use. Close wounds?”

“ _Huh_ ,” Jon thought, “ _so he has been paying attention_.”

Using everything she had, she tried to close her wound. Her veins crackled with the effort and energy of the spell, but the pain in her stomach remained.

“Come on, come on,” muttered Benor.

Jon tried harder. She wasn’t sure if the pain was lessening, or if the fact that she was concentrating so hard was just redirecting it. Her body spasmed.

“No,” whispered Benor.

“I’m sorry,” Jon gasped out. Her eyes fell closed again.

*

Jon drifted in and out of consciousness. She was vaguely aware that she was being carried, but her mind was too scattered to really understand that. The pain hadn’t gone away but it had lessened. More than anything else, she wanted to sleep.

*

At some point, although she had no way of knowing how long she’d been out, she awoke, and the fog in her brain had begun to clear.

“Benor,” she croaked.

The movement that was carrying Jon stopped. She cracked an eye open to see Benor staring down at her. She was in his arms, bridal style.

“Benor,” she repeated.

“Jon,” he said. His voice was croaky too. He started walking again. “I have to get you to a healer.”

“No, Benor, wait. Put me down.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Benor, I want to try to heal myself.”

That stopped Benor in his tracks.

“Okay.”

Very carefully, he laid her down on the soft grass and knelt beside her. Jon tried to breathe deeply, but it was difficult. Her hands tingled with magic.

Silently, she closed her eyes and got to work. Beads of cold sweat dripped down her forehead. Her breathing became laboured. Magic wasn’t usually this hard.

“Jon? Are you alright?” she heard Benor ask, but he sounded far away. She didn’t have the strength to answer.

The skin of her stomach felt very warm. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to. Feeling for the cut with her hand, she found it bandaged up. Benor must’ve done that himself. She felt herself smiling as she slipped into unconsciousness again.

*

She dreamt vivid dreams. Benor was by her side, as always. They conquered a mighty dragon together, just the two of them; no town guards, no atronachs, no Dremora Lords. As Benor turned to smile at her, Jon’s blood turned icy.

Uthgerd the Unbroken loomed just behind him. Jon’s tongue wouldn’t cooperate as she tried to warn him. Benor’s face went from a smile to confusion to fear in half a second, when Uthgerd plunged a sword into his back. Jon found her voice. She screamed.

*

The next time she woke up, she was in her own bed in Whiterun. Gasping and sweating, she clutched at herself, only to find that there was no pain. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her stomach was bandaged up, evidently by a professional. She was alone. A feeling of sickness rose up, and she lay back so it wouldn’t overcome her, and went back to sleep.

*

She didn’t know how many hours she’d been asleep, but she awoke again in her bed, and this time she wasn’t alone. Lydia was sitting in a chair by her bedside.

“Where’s Benor?” Jon demanded immediately.

“You’re awake,” said Lydia. Jon gritted her teeth. She had never had patience for Lydia.

“Where’s Benor?” she insisted.

“Drinking himself into an early grave, most likely.”

Jon’s jaw clenched even harder without her permission.

“Can you go and get him? Please?” She forced the words out through her gritted teeth.

Lydia got to her feet cautiously. She had, presumably, realised that angering Jon further at this time would be a bad idea.

“Of course.”

As soon as Lydia was out of the room, Jon exhaled. A sharp pain in her jaw when she did so told her that she’d been clenching it tighter than she’d realised.

Jon waited. Every second that ticked by was agony far worse than being stabbed. This was not at all like when Benor used to get lost and she’d have to wait for him to catch up. There was now a painful, irrational fear that Jon couldn’t even define, let alone explain.

At long last, Lydia returned with Benor in tow.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, and she did.

Jon found herself unable to meet Benor’s eyes initially. He stood in the doorway, not approaching the bed.

“Benor,” said Jon softly, forcing herself to look at him. He looked tired. His eyes were red and his hair was scruffy.

“Don’t ever do anything like that again,” said Benor. Jon was taken aback by the forcefulness of his tone. She wasn’t usually sensitive, but in her vulnerable state, she felt her eyes begin to water.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Jon. Benor just glared at the floor. “I was just trying to keep you safe.”

It was as if she had flicked a switch inside him.

“Keep _me_ safe?” He raised his voice. “All I’ve ever done from the moment we started travelling together is try to keep _you_ safe. I can’t believe you’d throw that all away by being so reckless and stupid.”

Jon flinched. His words stung, but he had a point. She couldn’t take care of Benor if she was dead. She managed to hold back tears until she realised that he was crying. Then the floodgates opened.

No words could escape between her gasping sobs. Benor put one hand on his chest unsteadily, and then came over and sat down on the chair next to the bed. He took her hand in his. She began to hiccup, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she said in between hiccups. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” said Benor. He wiped his own eyes on his sleeve, but it didn’t do much to stop the tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She dropped her face into her hands and tried to stifle her sobs. She heard the sound of Benor shifting in his chair, and then felt a warm hand on her shoulder. He pulled her into a warm, gentle embrace, and she momentarily froze.

Jon had never been one for physical contact. That all changed when Benor held her for the first time.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for their breathing to even out. That is, until Benor took a short, sharp breath.

“I love you,” he blurted out.

“You shouldn’t.” Jon’s heart was in her head and her head was in her heart but she knew for a fact that Benor was too good for her.

“Oh…” said Benor.

“No, wait, I don’t mean…” Jon pulled back quickly to look into Benor’s shiny eyes. He looked hurt. On impulse, she pulled him forward by his collar and kissed him full on the lips. Benor let out a little noise of surprise. She didn’t give him any time to react further, pulling away quickly.

“I… wow…” said Benor.

“I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t love me because I don’t love you. I meant that you shouldn’t love me because you’re too good for me,” she said firmly.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m a bad person, Benor. There are a lot of things I’ve done that you don’t know about.” Unbidden, her mind went back to Uthgerd the Unbroken.

“And I’m a murderer.”

“That’s not the same,” said Jon. “You don’t understand.”

“I want to understand,” said Benor, moving closer. “I want to know everything. Please let me into your world.”

Jon was dumbfounded. She’d run out of arguments that this was a bad idea. Even though Benor hadn’t argued against any of them really, he’d knocked them down and out of sight. Typical Benor.

“I love you,” said Jon. She’d been about to say more but then Benor was kissing her again.

“We’ll get through this, okay?” he whispered against her lips. “One day at a time. One crime at a time. I want to know all of you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jon agreed breathlessly. Her hands found her way into his hair and pulled him impossibly closer.

Jon had never been big on companions. She’d never felt like she’d needed anyone else. That all changed when she met Benor.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on twitter (@SRbackwards) and tumblr (ambrollinsislife).
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very appreciated. Thank you x


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